In the Dark
by whirlyite
Summary: The events recounted in my previous story "The Box" told from another point of view.


**IN THE DARK**

"Colonel…I really don't understand your order. Mind you, I'm not questionin' it. I'll obey it. But Kinch and me, sir, we just can't stand to see you like this. Is there anything we can do for you? Anythin' at all?"

Newkirk's words hit me right in the gut; I had never had to conceal anything of this magnitude from my men before and it was obvious that they weren't dealing with it very well. I looked up to see the unguarded confusion in Newkirk's eyes, compounded by the raised eyebrow I got from Kinch when he silently handed me a cup of coffee.

I turned away, touched by the raw depth of concern in my men's eyes. I gulped down the hot coffee and took a few steps away to stare down at the tunnel floor as I fought to rein in my emotions. I really had to get a grip on myself for the sake of my men; my anger and grief would have to wait until later – much, much later. I gave myself a quick mental talking to.

_Get a handle on yourself Rob! You can't let the men find out about this! Calm down so they won't worry and do something stupid!_

I knew that as the war continued to wind down the men would eventually find out the truth, as would the rest of the world. But as far as I was concerned, it was not going to be here and it was not going to be today. My men had enough on their minds; they didn't need this right now. They ran enough risks as it was and they certainly didn't need to be made any more vulnerable than they already were. As far as the Krauts were concerned, possession of this knowledge merited an automatic death sentence.

I took a deep breath as I contemplated Newkirk's words. Though it would take quite some time for me to put this matter into perspective, I realized that I could rely on my men to help me in any way they could. I focused on how fortunate I was to have their loyalty and support as I turned to answer Newkirk. It must've shown in my face because he let his breath out in a relieved sigh as I gripped his shoulder and said, "Thanks, Peter. I promise you I'll let you know."

* * *

It had all begun several days earlier with the receipt of a top secret, eyes-only message for me in emergency code from London. I sent Kinch topsides with orders for no one to disturb me while I took down the transmission myself. By the time I finished decoding the message, I was literally sick to my stomach. I had never received an order from London that physically affected me in this way. I stared at the paper, desperately trying to comprehend. I finally got myself calmed down enough to read it repeatedly and I committed every detail to memory before I destroyed it as instructed.

I still couldn't believe what I had read, as I mistakenly thought I knew the enemy. The lives of every one of my men depended on me knowing as much as I possibly could about the enemy. I knew that Hitler and his cronies were bona fide nut cases. I knew that brutality was the standard modus operandi for the Gestapo and SS. I knew that their fighting men were coldly efficient and ruthless in battle. I knew that a large part of the civilian population had been completely brainwashed and an equally large part had been terrorized to silence.

But never had I imagined them capable of crossing this line.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. How could this be? How could a supposedly civilized nation allow such things to take place? _How?_ This meant our mission to harass and distract the enemy became even more vital, now that there were thousands of innocent civilian lives throughout Europe at stake. I swiped at my forehead, trying to forestall the beginnings of a massive headache.

I immediately decided to personally handle this mission from start to finish without the involvement of any of my men; they did not need to assume the burden of this knowledge right now. Besides, London emphasized that this intelligence was on a strictly need to know basis due to its highly sensitive nature. Anyone caught with this information would more than likely face excruciating torture followed by an immediate, summary execution.

London confirmed that the gathering and transmittal of this intelligence had already cost several lives. If what they said the Germans were doing turned out to be true, it completely changed the entire tenor of the war. If this intelligence proved to be reliable, then this activity had to be stopped. It had to be stopped and it had to be stopped as soon as possible, it simply _had_ to. I swore I would do whatever was necessary to ensure that happened.

* * *

The phrase 'burden of command' instantly took on an entirely new and unexpected meaning for me as I planned the details of the mission. My men tried to gather round so I could give them an overview of what London transmitted, as we usually did when given assignments. I had to baldly lie to them in order to keep them clear and I regret that I did not do a very good job of keeping my temper in check.

Once I had my plan formulated, Klink threw me a curve ball by ordering me to be at his beck and call on the very day I had scheduled for the mission. I was furious and became even more so when I couldn't wheedle him into changing his mind without arousing suspicion. Apparently Burkhalter was due in camp for an inspection and the Bald Eagle needed me to run interference for him. I couldn't take the chance on being out of camp in case Burkhalter brought Hochstetter with him, as he had been doing lately.

Delay was not an option. I had no choice as London had already set up the handoff. I would be forced to send someone in my place. But who? Who of my command crew would I be forced to send on this very sensitive, very dangerous mission?

I fervently wished that it was possible to send Kinch in my place. In bearing and temperament, he would've been the best man for the job as whoever I sent would have to be content with obeying my orders with a complete ignorance of the reason for the mission. Unfortunately, dark-skinned German civilians simply did not exist. Carter? No, not Carter. He could be unpredictably naive at times, which simply wouldn't work for this mission. LeBeau? No, he was potentially too excitable for a mission of this caliber, plus his small stature made him too easy to pick out in a crowd if things went wrong. That left Newkirk.

Of course, it could only be Newkirk, the natural-born con-man and mimic. He could think on his feet and disappear into a crowd quicker than anyone I've ever known. While he had the strengths needed for this particular mission, his major weakness also had the real potential to foul it up beyond redemption. I had to impress upon him that I needed him to explicitly obey orders. I needed him to go to town, make contact with the Underground and return immediately with absolutely no detours. The last thing either of us needed was for him to have his head turned by a pretty fraulein; I couldn't tell him the reason why that the smallest distraction would cost him his life.

The night before the mission, I called Newkirk into my quarters to review the details of the handoff, as well as to outline what I expected of him.

"Diapers? Blimey! 'ave they run out of codes, then?" laughed Newkirk.

His casual reaction to the code infuriated me. Too many good people had given their lives to smuggle this information out and it certainly wasn't a laughing matter. Here I was deliberately putting his life in greater than normal danger by sending him out to retrieve this information and he was _laughing_ about it?

"This isn't a joke Corporal!" I shouted. "A little decorum is in order here. Now settle down and listen to me carefully!"

Newkirk drew back as if he had been slapped; he swallowed hard and mumbled, "Yes sir, Colonel, sir."

I reviewed the rest of the coded exchange, rehearsing it with him several times until I was certain he had it down perfectly. I went over the exact route he was to take both to town and back, making sure he explicitly understood there were to be no detours of any kind. Finally, I gave him a time limit by which I expected him to return; I wasn't taking any chances. He nodded his understanding of his orders and quickly left after I dismissed him.

My conscience bothered me a bit when I thought about it later; after all, Newkirk didn't know the reason behind the mission. His flippant comment was just Newkirk being Newkirk, which at any other time wouldn't have even concerned me. I hoped I would have a chance to make it up to him somehow after this was all over.

* * *

Late the next morning, I again lost my temper when giving Newkirk his last-minute instructions. I couldn't help myself; this mission simply could not fail and I couldn't tell him why. I had had nightmares of him being brutally tortured by the Gestapo should the handoff go south. My parting orders echoed in my mind as I paced the length of the tunnel, anxiously awaiting his return.

_Do not deviate for any reason, do you hear me? If you do not go straight there, retrieve this package and come straight back, I will have your head on a platter! That is not an idle threat Corporal!_

He'd muttered, "Of course, sir!" and jumped up onto the ladder leading to the emergency tunnel entrance as if he'd been scalded. Yeah, I'd definitely have to make this up to him somehow.

Thankfully, my English corporal did precisely as he was ordered and returned well within my time limit, carrying a box covered in brown wrapping paper under his arm. I wouldn't be satisfied until this information was safely on its way to London and I couldn't help but bark at him as he jumped off the ladder.

"Did you get it?" I snapped at him.

To his credit, he managed to summon up a convincing smile as he handed the box over to me.

"Yes sir. I 'ave it right 'ere. Piece o'cake."

I relaxed just a bit now that the box was finally in my hands and I murmured, "Good. Thank you." The next step was to see if the evidence was as damning as London claimed. I turned to head to the darkroom and was halfway there when I heard Newkirk's voice behind me.

"Beggin' the Colonel's pardon but what's so bloody important about this 'ere box?"

I stopped and turned to look at him for a very long moment. Since he had just unknowingly put his life in greater risk than usual, he of all the men deserved to know. But I was under orders. _Eyes only. Need to know. Top secret._ I sighed to myself and spoke slowly, choosing my words carefully.

"The others asked me pretty much the same question and I'm going to give you the same answer I gave them. London wanted confirmation of reports of certain German activities in Poland. This box contains photographs and eyewitness accounts that have been smuggled out and collected by the Underground. They have entrusted us with the responsibility of safely delivering them to London."

I should've known Newkirk wouldn't leave it at that as he asked, "What kind of activities, Colonel?"

I really couldn't blame him or the other men for that matter. They were used to being included in the planning and details of the missions we were assigned. This mission was the exception to that rule for so many valid reasons. On the one hand, they deserved to know exactly what they were fighting and laying their lives on the line for; yet, on the other hand, they didn't deserve the brutal consequences this knowledge carried with it.

I reached out to grasp his shoulder as I explained what little portion of my orders I could, namely, that I needed privacy to verify the contents of the box. I asked him to get Kinch to arrange a courier for pickup, trying at the same time to quell my rising dread of what I was going to find.

Newkirk acknowledged my order and turned to leave. He suddenly stopped to ask, "Sir, are you sure you want to do this alone?"

I really appreciated his concern but I needed to get this over with as soon as possible. For all I knew, Klink might be on the warpath by now looking for me. I reiterated my orders and he finally left to relay them to Kinch. I turned and headed to the darkroom, my heart in my throat as I anticipated what I was to see.

* * *

I emerged within an hour overwhelmed with what I later recognized as shock. The material in the box confirmed my worst fear – the Germans were carrying out a barbarous yet well-organized, systematic genocide against selected civilian populations in the lands they had overrun.

The handwritten accounts were bad enough, but the photos...oh God, the photos! Men and women, both young and old, children, no one was exempt from Nazi cruelty. London had been right. Even so, they were still in for a major shock. For the first time in this crummy war, I felt very nearly helpless with despair coupled with rage.

Did the average German know what was happening? Did Klink? Did Schultz? How in the world could this _be_? Where's the rest of the world? How could they not know?

I slowly approached the radio room, clutching the box tightly to my chest, head bowed and eyes on the ground. Newkirk looked up and ran over to me.

"Colonel? Are you all right? Would you like a cup of coffee?"

I shook my head. "I'll be all right. I just need a little time."

I dropped the box atop Kinch's radio table and slowly began rewrapping it. Newkirk put his hand on my shoulder and spoke, startling me a bit.

"Sir, I respectfully request..."

I angrily cut him off, making it as plain as I humanly could that the contents of the box were off limits. I went as far to make it a direct order with the severest of punishment for disobedience. They both formally snapped to in acknowledgment when I finished. It simply couldn't be helped; these orders were for their protection. This was a command level decision on both my and London's part. I was responsible for my men. I would take the brunt of the risk of this mission. End of discussion.

I asked Kinch for the coordinates of the pickup and finished wrapping the box. I stood back from the table, trying unsuccessfully to gather my wits before I betrayed myself before my men. I had actually contemplated running back to the darkroom to break down in private when Newkirk stepped forward to ask if there was anything he or Kinch could do.

Yes, Peter, there is, I thought to myself. Just obey my orders, please? No more questions about this mission; just let me worry about this one until the war ends, okay? I promise I'll explain everything then.

Of course, what I said was, "Thanks, Peter. I promise you I'll let you know."


End file.
